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Inside the wood fencing, Tazzie’s front lawn was an odd collection of mismatched steppingstones, concrete pavers, and bricks. Colorful gnomes and hand-painted signs decorated the yard. The garden Lilly had mentioned played out in a mishmash of creative genius. Brogan drooled at the artistic way Tazzie had made the most of her outdoor growing space. Every inch utilized a container—from reclaimed sinks to gigantic jars to brass pots—everything had some purpose with a plant growing out of it.
Brogan counted ten varieties of tomatoes thriving in an old recycled fountain. At least twenty tiny watermelons dangled from a bunch of vines wrapped around a three-foot-tall mermaid statue. Two dozen cucumbers hung from a concrete bunny and looked ready to pickle. Several stakes fixed to an iron bench helped a crop of green beans climb to their fullest potential. Between the vegetables were companion plants like sage, marigolds, zinnias, and nasturtiums growing in salvaged tubs and birdbaths. The eye-catching centerpiece was an old clawfoot bathtub stuffed with lavender and a colorful array of fall mums.
Brogan opened the rickety gate and headed for the stoop. She rang the doorbell and waited. But no one came to the door. Disappointed, she was about to leave when Tazzie appeared at the corner of the house holding a small spade in her hand.
A tall woman, slim at the waist, with reddish hair and a crop of freckles across her nose, barked in her direction. “What do you want? Didn’t I see you loitering around Vera’s house last night?”
“I was in the general vicinity. But I belong to a more peripheral circle than Brent or his officers.”
“Reporters,” Tazzie spit out like a bad taste had formed in her mouth. Visibly irritated, she made a rumbling noise in her throat. “Nosing around asking questions about Vera doesn’t get you points with me. Go away. I’m busy.”
“Not exactly why I’m here. My husband and I are trying to solve the murder of Gidget Jane Doe from 1978. You know, back when you were the murder victim’s age—a teenager.” Brogan watched the annoyed look on Tazzie’s face melt into disbelief and shock. She took advantage of it and held up the swag. “I brought caramel coffee from Perky Pelican and pecan tarts courtesy of Jordan. Lilly said you loved both. And I see by your lawn that you love to garden. We have that in common. Container gardening is one of my favorite ways to grow things. I picked up daffodil bulbs and thought we could swap gardening tips.”
Charmed at the idea of goodies, Tazzie took off her gardening gloves and reached for the coffee. “Just what I need right about now. Lilly knows me well. You a friend of hers?”
“I like to think so.”
“Lilly’s good people, like Jordan,” Tazzie imparted as she took her first hit of the sweet caffeine. Warming up to the idea of a visitor, she gestured toward an outdoor lime-green metal bistro table and chairs collecting its fair share of rust. “Have a seat. I need a break from the weeding anyway. I could use some carbs to finish the job.”
Brogan tested the sturdiness of the wobbly chair before taking a careful seat across from Tazzie. “I see you grew strawberries during the summer. Did you grow enough to make jam?”
A wide smile crossed Tazzie’s face. “You know your vines. I like that. I got enough for half a dozen jars. Small ones, but they’ll do me until next spring. You?”
Brogan held out Jordan’s basket with the tarts and offered it to Tazzie. “I didn’t think of making jam until after I’d used all of them in strawberry shortcake. Perhaps next year.”
Tazzie nodded and bit into the pecan pie. “Delicious as always. I see you only brought two. You a cheapskate?”
Brogan sputtered with laughter. “Sometimes. But it’s all Jordan had on hand.”
“Ah, well, that’s a shame. I’ll save the other one for later if you don't mind. Let’s see the bulbs.”
“And seed packets.”
Delighted at the prospect, another grin split the woman’s face as she went through the packets as if doing a quick inventory of her stash.
“Winter seed starters,” Brogan pointed out. “Winter squash, peppers, bunching onions, and snap peas.”
Tazzie fawned over each packet, especially the varieties of lettuce and kale. “I can tell you’re a fan of the green stuff. That’s a plus in your favor.”
“You’re a vegetarian.”
“Not by choice. Meat’s too expensive, so I don’t buy it. A woman on a budget has to watch her pennies. I’ll splurge now and then on a burger at the Diner, though, if it’s a special occasion.”
“Good to know. What do you do with all this? There are enough cherry and grape tomatoes here to feed a family of four.”
“I trade with the neighbors. Last summer, I needed a window replaced, so I traded a batch of okra and a basket of tomatoes for an hour’s worth of work. Troy and Zach help me out sometimes for free. In return, I give them home-grown stuff to take home to their missus. Otherwise, I’m fairly handy with a paintbrush. I can slap a can of paint on the wall as well as the next person. And back in 2009, I took a shop class at the community college, so I’m handy with a drill and hammer when the situation calls for it.”
“That’s smart thinking.”
“I learned how to garden from my mother. But when I got serious about it out of necessity to feed myself, I took one of those refresher courses to get a higher yield. Jordan recommended it. And that woman can grow anything. Have you seen her courtyard lately?”
“Not lately.”
“Beautiful landscaping done to grow her own herbs. She and Nick created it themselves. Nothing better than a well-laid-out garden.”
Brogan looked around the front yard. “I’d say Jordan isn’t the only one who knows a thing or two about designing a well-functioning space. Yours is flat-out inspirational.”
Tazzie’s cheeks flushed crimson at the praise. “You think so?”
